Canola field near Camrose scene of farm couple’s wedding

Kas Strause gets ready for her nuptials to James Spruyt.

Photograph by: roxannemiller.com
, roxannemiller.com

EDMONTON - The tears flowed even before Kas Strause and James Spruyt exchanged their wedding vows this summer.

The first time was when Kas went to her grandparents’ ranch months before the wedding to ask her grandpa, Norm Strause, to walk her down the aisle to honour his son Val, the man she had always known as “Dad Val.”

Kas was only four years old when Val died of cancer, and her Grandpa Strause, already a big part of her life, stepped up and played an even greater role. It was he who taught her how to ride, hoisting her onto the back of a horse and making sure her tiny fingers were wrapped tightly around the saddle’s horn before taking the reins in his hands to lead her around the barn. And it was he who gave her her first horse when she was five years old; a Morgan she named “Zipper.”

While her Grandpa Strause instilled in her a love of horses, it was Dwayne Adam who stepped up and became her father. Married to her mom Wendy when Kas was seven, he made her feel safe and loved and protected, and she loved him dearly.

“He’s always been ‘Dad,’” she says simply. When she asked him the same question she had asked her grandpa, there were more tears — some of remembrance tinged with sadness, but mostly of joy.

Kas always knew, even when she was very young, that her love of horses would somehow play a role in her wedding day. Provided she ever got married, that is.

“I was convinced it would never happen,” says the 22-year-old. “I didn’t have the patience. I got bored with people, and I didn’t think I could find someone who could keep up with me.”

Enter James Spruyt, now 25. She first laid eyes on him at a rodeo dance in Camrose more than four years ago. She wasn’t impressed by what she saw.

“I thought he had just come back from working on the rigs or something,” recalls Kas. “I didn’t pay him much attention.”

He did, though, and he was determined to win her over. Before long, they were spending a lot of time together, hanging out with mutual friends. And it turned out she was wrong about him. Dead wrong.

Not only was he a nice guy, she was surprised to learn they shared common interests, among them sports and ranching. His family raised cattle in Kingman, hers grain and cattle in Bashaw.

“I found out he was a good farm boy,” she said.

He proposed to her on New Year’s Eve, 2010, in the mountains near Sicamous during a snowmobiling trip with her family. She said yes.

Months later, as they were “chasing cows” for her parents, James pulled back on the reins of his horse as the pair rode up over a ridge. He gestured to the breathtaking vista below, where a coulee ran through pristine pasture land adjacent to a brilliant yellow canola field. And all of it under an endless Alberta sky.

“This is where I want to get married,” he said to her.

Its beauty was inarguable. She said yes.

On the day of their wedding, the land was dotted with hay bales — seating for their 200 guests.

The groom rode in on a quad, the bride on her beloved quarter horse Freckles.

“I spent more time getting my horse ready than I did myself,” says Kas with a laugh.

After she slid from the saddle to the ground below, Freckles tossed his head and whinnied softly, as if on cue.

Smiling, Kas slipped one arm through her grandpa’s, the other through her dad’s, and the three of them made their way down the grassy aisle toward James.

Unlike the night before at the rehearsal, when she found herself tearing up, she was strangely calm. She remembers being in the moment, dry-eyed and serene. She looked into James’s eyes as she said her vows, in a clear voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

Afterwards, when the kiss was exchanged and the registry signed, Kas slipped her arm through James’s and the two of them retraced her steps back down the grassy aisle, this time as husband and wife.

Later, at the reception, during the rounds of toasts and speeches, there was much laughter and celebration. Not surprising, there were more tears, too, and not just from the bride.

“Dad Val was an emotional piece for everybody,” says Kas. “When I tried to acknowledge my grandpa, I was bawling so much I couldn’t get the words out. James did it for me.”

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